SIGHTS: green hills, mist, rainbows
SMELLS: dung, chimney smoke, tea trees
SOUNDS: cow bellows, hoof steps, morepork (ruru) calls
FEELS: damp, fresh, chilled air TASTES: venison, buttered toast, raw cow's milk
The force of a firing rifle pushed my body back with incredible power.
By the end of this, I'll either be dead or in jail.
Imaginary headlines flashed in my mind: "Crazed American Shoots Kiwis during Pheasant Hunt: The Unpheasant Story."
How were pheasants introduced into New Zealand? Why were pheasants introduced into New Zealand? How come no one else is clutching their hearts and breathing like an eighty-two-year-old with emphysema as we chase pheasants over the mountainous hills of New Zealand??
New to New Zealand
I was 19-years-old when I embarked upon my first solo trip abroad. Although there are many countries I dream to visit, New Zealand always called out louder. Maybe it's because of the uniquely different native flora and fauna? Or my curiosity to learn more about the indigenous Polynesian people of New Zealand, the Maori? Perhaps it's because The Lord of the Rings Trilogy was filmed there? It's really hard to say...
And so when I had a three week break in-between jobs in July 2012, I decided to visit the island country of 4.5 million people.
There are many ways to travel. My preferred style is to volunteer with a work exchange program, which is built on the idea of a collaboration between a person who wants to offer their time and skills, and a host who is seeking a certain kind of help. This is typically in exchange for the traveler's accommodation (TravelFreak has a comprehensive list of these programs).
My travel focus was to learn more about sustainable farming, which led me to the World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms (WWOOF) organization. WWOOF's mission is "to facilitate exchanges around organic agriculture. WWOOF hopes to provide a way for people to learn about organic food, agriculture, and sustainable ways of living."
After researching many farms throughout New Zealand, I happened upon a small, organic dairy farm in the Te Anga community in the Waitomo District and Waikato Region of the north island. The word "waitomo" comes from the Maori language:"wai" meaning "water; "tomo" meaning "hole," which is why the community is most famously known for its glow worm caves. This was the ultimate deal-maker for me to reach out to the WWOOF host and ask if I could volunteer on his farm.
Craig, my host and owner of the farm, is a lovely man--funny, carefree, honest, not afraid to make fun of you when you electrocute yourself on an electric fence, and an avid hunter. He has hunted all of his life, and when I asked him if many Kiwis were hunters his response was, “All Kiwis are hunters.”
*it's important to note that "Kiwis" with a capital "K" refers to the people of New Zealand, and not the flightless bird or hairy fruit
I had previously set the intention to “do as they do” and "eat what they ate" and get the most from my cultural exchange. So if hunting was part of their lifestyle, I would hunt, too. Me. The girl who held a burial service for a cockroach.
Growing up, my family only ate meat that came from the supermarket and was cleverly packaged to conceal any remnants of the animal origin. We didn't know any hunters and I had never been around a firearm, let alone pull the trigger of one. Even holding a heavy-duty Super Soaker made me uneasy. My distress around weapons perfectly paired with my obsessive love for animals, ultimately leading me to become a vegetarian when I was 10-years-old.
When I first met Craig, he asked me if I had any dietary needs. Remembering my personal promise, I told him that I would eat anything, though I didn't often eat meat (hesitant to admit that I hadn't actually eaten a piece of meat for nine years). He asked if I would feel comfortable accompanying a hunt or two during my stay, to which I simply responded: "I'm game."
Game for the Hunt
In order to hunt, I first needed to learn how to shoot a rifle. Craig suggested that we start with a form a target practice called “skeet shooting,” which involves firing at a moving disc that is thrown into the air. The disc is typically bright orange and is referred to as a "bird." The person with the rifle yells "PULL!" to communicate that they're ready for the bird to be launched.
When Craig approved of my stance and position, I picked up the rifle and took time to absorb the full weight; both the physical load, and the heaviness I felt knowing that I could hurt, possibly kill, another living being with a slight twitch of my finger.
My chihuahua-like state of shaking didn’t ease my thoughts of accidentally shooting someone. I eventually steadied myself and pulled the trigger. The end of the rifle collided into my shoulder and pushed me back with a vigorous force. I had missed. So I went back to position, centered my focus and yelled “Pull!” The deafening noise of the gun distracted me from looking at the target. When Craig told me I hit the disc, I almost didn’t believe him—but we then went to see the remains. Small bits of neon orange were scattered through the grass, and while I first thought they looked lonely and no longer filled with purpose, I soon felt an unexpected sense pride. That feeling evolved into an eagerness to litter the land with more ruptured discs (and because I live with a constant stream of guilt, I eventually picked up all of the pieces once our practice was over).
After my training, we drove down the road to Craig’s parent’s house where they had an influx of pheasants across their farm. Pheasants are a popularly hunted game bird in New Zealand, however, my only experience with them is from Disney’s Bambi. There's a scene in that film where a female pheasant can't take the pressure of waiting for hunters to pass and decides to fly away, only to get immediately shot (this scene was on repeat in my mind during the entire car ride).
When we arrived, Craig handed me his two-hundred-year-old rifle and let Max, his hunting dog, loose. Max instantly bounded towards the forested area, or "bush," and Craig and Melanie (another WWOOFer) promptly ran after him. I assumed I should probably start running, but after a few quickened steps, I stopped. I watched my companions confidently stride over the uneven terrain, carefully cradling their rifles, looking alert and ready. I looked down at myself and reflected on my own agility...
...during my first week on the farm I had managed to: land in a stream I was attempting to jump over, shock myself while hopping an electric fence, and get swallowed by a six-foot-deep "tomo" (hole).
Even though I exercised the proper safety precautions, I obsessively visualized the horrific accidents that might (probably) occur. Since I rather liked Melanie and Craig, I decided to spare their lives (and mine) by surrendering my weapon.
Relief flowed through me, and our chase continued.
We ran in silence, jumping at every wing flutter. When Max stopped running and looked up, we stopped running and looked up. During these moments of anxiety and exhilaration, I began to realize how attuned I felt with the natural environment. The noises were amplified: I heard Max’s collar as he bounded into the forested abyss; Melanie’s breathing in sync with her pace; Craig’s powerful steps on the beautiful land. Every broken twig or muddled track caught my attention as I scanned the landscape. The lush hills that surrounded gave me a sense of protection—a sense of shelter. Although I was accompanying those carrying weapons, I was no longer afraid of the power they held. I was unified with all that was around.
We read the landscape like a mystery book, looking for clues of what occurred there and why.
And then we saw it.
The bright plumage of a male pheasant bursting from the brush. Craig hastily brought his rifle up and took a shot. The pheasant paused for a brief moment in the air, and then plummeted down.
Since I was no longer holding a gun, I had the pleasure of carrying the pheasant. I gently grabbed his feet, afraid to hurt him...and then remembered he was dead. As I held his still warm body and felt his fresh blood on my hands, I mourned his death and appreciated his life. His long tail feathers tickled my arm as his talons dug into my skin. While Craig and Melanie weren’t looking, I pulled him closer and whispered “thank you.” Later that night, we ate him and another for dinner.
Tracking Down Environmental Stewards
The majority of plant and animal species in New Zealand are endemic to the land, meaning that these species are only found in a particular region and nowhere else. They are an integral part of an ecosystem and are more at risk of becoming threatened or endangered because of their limited habitat range.
One of the most iconic endemic species is the kiwi bird. Four out of the five kiwi species are listed as "vulnerable" on the International Union for Conservation of Nature's (IUCN) Red List of Threatened Species, mostly due to habitat loss and predators.
Kiwis are more susceptible to predators due to their flightlessness and ground habitation. Their mammal predators, such as the mustelids (stoats, ferrets, weasels), are all introduced species. These species often have no natural predator to keep their populations under control, and pose a serious threat to many native species.
*FUN FACT: Bats are surprisingly New Zealand's only native land mammal (and do not prey upon kiwis)
This is just one example of an ecosystem out of balance as a result of human interference, however, many actions being taken to mitigate these effects.
Kiwis born in captivity have "a 65% chance of surviving adulthood--compared to just 10% for wild-hatched and raised chicks."
Kiwi bird population is on the rise thanks to local community efforts and legislation passed by the New Zealand Department of Conservation (DOC). This work focuses on re-establishing native species by creating wildlife sanctuaries, hatching kiwi eggs under captivity through Operation Nest Egg where a "bird has a 65% chance of surviving to adulthood--compared to just 10% for wild-hatched and raised chicks," conducting kiwi population counts, and establishing a "Predator Free 2050" goal.
Which brings this back to hunting. Hunting for conservation (i.e. eradicating invasive and non-native species) may help re-populate New Zealand's native wildlife.
Professor Irena Knezevic of Carleton University wrote "Hunting and Environmentalism: Conflict or Misperceptions" for the international journal of Human Dimensions of Wildlife, where she cited Robert M. Poole's National Geographic study: "Today's hunters, particularly recreational hunters, consider themselves conservationists and are often involved with land conservation efforts through various organizations. In 2006 alone, hunters in the United States contributed $280 million to groups like Ducks Unlimited, Pheasants Forever, and the Rocky Mountain Elk Fundation. Ducks Unlimited raised over $160 million that year, 82% of which went to conservation."
"Ducks Unlimited raised over $160 million [in 2006], 82% of which went to conservation."
Hunting for conservation is still hotly debated. If done consciously, it can bring an ecosystem closer to an equilibrium, however, the reason why a species population may be out of control is because humans intervened in the first place.
My brain hurts from the cognitive dissonance.
On my search for more data and statistics, I realized that the numbers don't affect me as much as the pheasant hunt experience. I can only speak anecdotally about this topic. After being in a new situation, I confronted my preconceived notions about hunters, and worked through my personal biases. I gained a stronger appreciation for the labor and life given for the food I eat, and unveiled the environmental consciousness and stewardship of hunters.
This rant is not intended to preach about hunting or food choices. We all have different nutritional needs, lifestyles, and ethical comforts, and you know your body and mind best. I may decide to further challenge my boundary to not actively hunt on my future travels. Regardless, I write this to remind myself of the gratitude I feel for an experience that brought me outside of my comfort zone and helped strengthen how I honor life.
Gunning Down Policies
This was just one part of my trip to New Zealand, and I haven't even gone into the other adventures I had with Craig, Melanie, Max, the dogs, cows, sheep, glow worms, wetas, hedgehogs, deer, fish, and cave spiders! There's also much more to say about the full history of how pheasants were introduced by European colonists, the other pests that threaten New Zealand's biodiversity, and the relationship between the Maori and the DOC.
Even though this post is already quite lengthy, I feel the need to acknowledge New Zealand's gun control policies. On March 15th, 2019, there was a mass shooting in two mosques in Christchurch. Mass shootings in New Zealand are rare, and "less than a month after a white supremacist terrorist shot and killed 51 people...the country's parliament voted 119 to one to pass gun control legislation that banned most of the country's automatic and semiautomatic weapons."
Isabel Fattal's article in The Atlantic eloquently describes the complexities of comparing different country's gun violence, but gives a strong argument for stricter gun policies in the U.S. due to the fact that there have been 90 mass shootings in the U.S. since 1997, compared to the two in New Zealand from that same period of time.
Guns are weapons, but also can be used as tools for constructive, not destructive, purposes.
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